Just Like This
by ReeImagine
Summary: The wedding was just the beginning.
1. Chapter 1

One

 **Matches Made By the Minister of Magic**

By Rita Skeeter

Surprising us all in turn, strictly because of it's absents of a thousand and one years and the barbaricness of it. Law 578, mainly now known as "The Marriage Law", has been officially confirmed as a go. The Law's main purpose was to form arranged marriages for the benefit of the Magical Society, but in truth it only benefits Ministry of Magic. Although the Minister is insisting on telling us that the marriage law will be modified, so that Pureblood singles will be forced for marry Muggle-born or Half-bloods to prevent further inbreeding in the wizarding community. But we all can see the truth behind this ugly lie. For it is well know that the Minister of Magic is a Pureblood, even if he is from a low class wizarding family, and he has had his eye on a young witch, Veronica Pebble, a very beautiful Muggle-born witch. Since the law only effects the Wizards and Witches of Britain, any foreigners in visiting at this time should not fret. Although I would like to warn every young adult out there, because despite what Imelda Velvickys, Head of Couple Affairs, is saying on how this matter "will not be taken lightly and each and every individuals' profile is going to be carefully looked over so that one is not pared with an non compatible wizard or witch.", however this horrendous 'law' will be effecting all wizards and witches of legal age, excluding barren males or females, widows and widowers, and any adult over the age of 50. This means a witch of 17, a child in the eyes of most parents, could very much marry a man 49 years! The unfortunate persons that are selected will receive two letters, one on April the second, informing them of their jobs as partners and the punishments of not fulfilling said needs. The last letter to be delivered will be depending on how long it takes to find a suitable match. When finding out who it is they shell be marrying, the unfortunate souls will be given one year so that they can prepare for a descent wedding, after which they will be bounded for life! Merlin help us all.

The Minister of Magic sighed as he placed the Daily Prophet back onto his desk; the whole 'Marriage Law' business was giving him a headache. It was funny how he was against it from the very beginning, with every given opportunity he would make sure that the entire wizarding community of Great Britain knew where it was that he stood on the matter and that was definitely not for the legalizing law, that is, if it could be considered a law. But since that awful Skeeter woman wrote her article, it all seem pointless, no matter what he would say or do every single witch and wizard would here on out believe that he was the cause of all their suffering.

The Minister began to massaging his head as he mutter under his breath on how he hoped the whole affair was just some really elaborate nightmare and that he would wake up in any minute, that's when a masked figure seemingly stepped out of thin air right into the middle of the Minister office. The stranger waited patiently from where he was standing while the Minister continued on with his muttering. It wasn't until a solid five minutes had passed before the intruder took matters into his own hands and cleared his throat. The Minister looked up in surprise.

"Who are you?" he asked immediately.

However the masked stranger simply ignored him and began to make his way to one of the two oak chairs in front of the Minister's desk.

"May I?" the figure asked in a thick French accent while gripping the back chair in one hand as the other gestured to the empty set, the Minister nodded.

The stranger hummed happily to himself while he settled into chair. Crossing his legs, he began to lazily tap his wand against his the heel of his boot, his piercing blue eyes gazed at the papers on the desk, to the books on the shelf and finally they landed on the Minister, much like a cat would look at a mouse. The Minister felt a shiver run down his spine.

"Who are you?" the Minister asked again as he stared at the intruder not willing to be the one to brake the eye contact.

"Why, bonjour to you too, my dear sir! Lovely weather we're having, don't you think, Minister?" the stranger said in a slow purring manner.

"Who. Are. Yo-"

"You see the question that you should be asking is not who I am, who I am doesn't really matter, but WHY am I here." The intruder said in an almost bored way, "Now that _the_ important question."

"All right, fine, have it your way." Sighing, the Minister then asked "Why are you here?"

"Now that there is a good question. A good question indeed." the stranger's eyes twinkled. "I'm here on business, with you to be precise."

"You are, are you," the Minister said a bit skeptical. "And what kind of business might that be, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Comment puis- je le mettre? You see, there's a war that's been brewing, and, and, uh –"

"You're here to tell me about." The Minister said cutting the stranger off, he thrummed his fingers on the desk impatiently. "Now listen here, laddie, I'm trying my very best to prevent the Marriage Law from happening. It's kind of hard when you're one of four individuals who are against the whole sodding thing. So if yo–"

"Ah, but you see, Monsieur, I'm not here to prevent it, actually, I'm here initiate it."

"You…wait, WHAT? How?" The Minister asked raising an eye brow.

"By killing you." The stranger bluntly replied.

The Minister let a second pass by before asking, "And, uh, how do you plan to do that?"

"I'm going to stab you in the chest," the stranger said cheerily, "but before that I need you to show me who the other two are, if you don't mind."

"There's four of us, and I don't know where they are."

"I already killed Nanette Sherwood, and for so funny reason, I don't believe you."

And it that moment, the Minister dove for his wand, which he had been using as a bookmark in Politics with Goblin's, Troll's and Werewolves, and at the same time, the stranger reached for his ankle and in one sweeping movement, a dagger was plunged into the wand hand of the Minister which cased him to cry out in pain.

"SILENCIO! TAIS-TOI!"

There came a knock on the door.

"Sir, is everything alright in there?" came a woman's muffled voice.

"Merde!" muttered the stranger.

Pointing his wand at the Minister, the stranger said in a low voice "Legilimens."

And he began to shuffle though the Minister's memories.

A minute passed by until women behind the door asked again, "Is everything alright?... Sir?"

By the time the second knocked came the stranger had found what he had needed. Muttering under his breath, the intruder turned his attention to the office door and flicked his wand to secure the door further.

CRASH

The stranger swiveled his head towards the Minister, who had just thrown a paperweight in the form of an glass owl, which had nearly missed the head of the intruder.

"Sir?"

The doorknob giggled.

The stranger wrenched the dagger out of the Ministers hand and drove it his chest while saying: "Avaddo, emeh shien u tum vola. Avaddo, emeh kare tu tum u zalc ra muda. " then he withdrew the dagger and caved a symbols around the wound he had just create.

"Au Revoir, Minister. Avaddo, zak tumla yuta." and with those last words, shadows began to form around the stranger.

And before the shadow engulfed the stranger completely, the last thing the Minister saw was of his twinkling blue eye, as he gave a small mocking wave. And in the final moments of the Minister life, he couldn't help but agree with Rita Skeeter: Merlin help us all.


	2. Chapter 2

Two

Miss Granger

Here, in the Department of Couple Affairs (DCA), it is my job to inform you that Law 578, recently dubbed as 'the marriage law', is officially in act and you along side many others, have been selected as a candidate. As is such, you will need to be aware of the regulations of this reinstated law, if you are to be approved. Since this law is not meant for repopulating the Wizarding Community of Great Britain, only for preventing farther inbreeding, it is not required of you and your partner to produce any children. This does not mean you or your partner will not be punished for lake of faithfulness. If one of you is to be found having a sexual relationship with an individual other then your spouse, you or your partner, who ever it is found at fault, will spend a minimum to five years in Azkaban. This match will be for life and will require a minister worker from the Department of Legal Oath Taking (DLOT) to perform the proper bonding spell to ensure that you remain faithful and safe. Now that you are fully informed about the matter, a check up will have to be performed on you, this Sunday of May at St. Mungo's Hospital. It will take 21 days or more after that to find a suitable match for you, when this match is made. You will receive a letter announcing you future husband's name, after which you will be given a half a year to be wedded.

Yours sincerely,

Imelda Velvickys, Head of Couple Affairs

Hermione Jean Granger couldn't believe what she had just read. Was this even allowed? It couldn't be possible, it just couldn't be, it was too sudden, too absurd… too horrible. How could someone agreed to something this awful.

Hermione placed down the letter, rubbing her forehead in to process. A year had barley pass by since the war with Voldemort and here they were, already making this ridicule's law that just might possibly start another one. She felt like she wanted to scream, tare up the letter and burn it, never to think about it again, possibly the thought of becoming a nun pass the her thoughts more the once, but instead of doing this Hermione took another bite out of her breakfast. Just two seconds ago, she had been extremely proud of pancakes she had made; now she merely glared at the syrupy smiley-face that she had drawn on them.

"I hate you." Hermione told her meal in a rather sulky tone.

It did not replied as she was privately wished, it just continued to smile, lop sided as it may be. Huffing, Hermione stood up and picked the plate and walked into the kitchen. After sliding the remands of Mr. Happy-Go-Lucky-Pancake into the trash bin, Hermione dumped the dishes into the sink where she would wash them, eventually.

Wiping her hands against her pants, she made her way to the small living room were she grabbed her beaded bag stuffing the letter into it, a scarf, which she wrapped around her neck and a handful of Floo powder.

Stepping into the fireplace, Hermione let go of the fine powder as she said, "The Burrow!" in a loud and clear voice. And just like that the world turned into a colorful swirling blur of images that sped by, some of happy looking families and others look like offices, but it wasn't until Hermione glanced the back of Mrs. Weasley as she fussed about in the kitchen, did the spinning start to slow down.

Mrs. Weasley gave a small yelp from Hermione's sudden arrival.

"There you are, dearie," Mrs. Weasley said as Hermione placed her bag on a wooden stool and unwrapped her maroon scarf and hung it up on a near by coat rack.

"What kept you? I thought you said you be here by nine?" Mrs. Weasley asked, glancing at a near by clock on the wall, she frowned. "Merlin's beard, it's might as well be twelve."

"Sorry, Mrs. Weasley, I slept through my alarm." Hermione lied, while rummaging though the beaded bag searching for that dratted 'Letter'.

 _Ah-ha! There you are!_

Pulling it out, Hermione began to smooth the wrinkles from it. "I'm having trouble sleeping." And as an after thought she added, "I was working night shift for the last four months, and now that they switched me to mornings, I've been having a lot more trouble getting to bed, I end up passing out from exhaustion." her voice quivered slightly, "And now I have to deal with this." When she finished she held up the crumbled letter showing Mrs. Weasley what 'this' meant.

"Oh my…" Mrs. Weasley hands flew to her face, "Oh, oh my poor dear, come here."

Just as Mrs. Weasley's arms wrapped around Hermione, the floodgates were open and all the pent up frustration come spilling out.

"Come, sit down, dearie, I'll get you a cut of tea. The boy's should be coming in soon… don't you fret, we'll figure things out. Here use this to dry your eyes."

Sitting down on a padded chair, Hermione started to dab her eyes with the handkerchief Mrs. Weasley had left with her. _How? How are we going to figure things out? There's nothing to do, they already passed the law. If only Percy was still here, he would have been able to do something… anything._ Lost in her own disperse, Hermione didn't notice Mrs. Weasley making her way towards her carrying a tray piled high with crumpets and two full cups of hot steaming tea.

"Here you go, dearie."

Snapping out of her thoughts, Hermione took the cup of tea that was being offered and blew on it in a feeble attempt to cool it down, when the door burst open reviling a beat red faced Ronald Weasley and an extremely pale faced Harry Potter.

"What the fu-"

"Language, Ronald!" Mrs. Weasley quickly scolded over her shoulder, who was now making her way back into kitchen to stir a large pot of stew.

"-uck do they think their doing?" Ron finished, "He's been dead _one_ bloody day!"

Wiping her tears, Hermione asked, "Who?"

The two boys looked at each other debating whether or not to answer Hermione.

Ron shrugged, "It's not like their not going to find out. Skeeter's going to be over it like flies on dung."

"Yeah, but… I don't know." Harry muttered, rubbing his forehead out of habit.

"Who's dead?" Hermione asked again.

After a second passed by, Ron replied, "The Minister."

"How?"

"That's just it, we don't know." Ron said, sliding into a chair next to her. "Yeah, he may have had a big-o hole in 'im but that was the that offed 'im, at least that's what the Healers are sayin'. Some kind of dark ritual, I bet. We have experts coming in."

"And why can't you tell us this?" Mrs. Weasley cut in from within the kitchen.

"Well… He wasn't the only one. There's been others, a ton of them. Killed exactly the same way and –"

"And that's all we can tell you." Harry finished for Ron; upon looking at Hermione he finally noticed that something was off, "You okay, 'Mione?"

"Here!" Trusting the letter into Harry's hands, Hermione got up and walked towards Ginny, who had finally decided to join the land of the living.

"Mornin', Herms."

"Morning, Ginny."

Pouring tea into a coffee mug, Ginny looked up at Hermione, asking, "So, how's work?"

"It's okay, I hav-"

"HERMIONE!"

Turing around, Hermione saw Ron running at her, waving the paper in the air, she braced herself the inedible.

"Hermione! What is _this_!"

"That, Ron, is a letter from Mrs. Imelda Velvickys, Head of Couple Affairs, and if you had read it properly, it's stating tha-"

"I know what it is, but why do you have it?"

Sighing, Hermione placed her hands on her hip, "Oh, don't know, Ron. Maybe, just maybe, it's stating that I have to get _married_."


	3. Chapter 3

Three

Dinner that night was eerily quite, especially after Ron and Hermione's loud quarreling and the reason behind it, and that was the cause of Harry and Hermione deciding on leaving earlier then they had wished. After the long hugs and farewells to the Weasley family, they left.

Outside, the cool air was filled with the sounds of chirping crickets and hooting owls, Hermione slide her arm around Harry's, as they began to walk down the Weasley's yard before disapparating home.

"So you're going to get married, huh?" Harry said, "Who the lucky idiot?"

"Don't know. I have to go the St. Mungo's in order to be fully 'qualified'."

"Why?"

"Oh, you know, they have to make sure I'm not a Werewolf in hiding, because heavens forbid that." Hermione huffed aggregated, "But that doesn't matter right now, what does is the date to your wedding? When am I going to get that invitation, by the way?" Smiling, Hermione poked Harry on the shoulder more than happy to talk about something other then the marriage law.

With out warning, Harry stopped causing Hermione to stubble. Glancing up, she began to open her mouth ready to scold him, but she noticed that he had taken a sudden interest in the lack of stars in the heavens, she sensed that something was wrong; so she waited for him to speak.

"The wedding's off."

"Beg your pardon?" Hermione's smile faltered.

"There's not going to be a wedding, Hermione. I... I got the letter too." His face was dangerously blank.

"WHAT!" the smile had now completely disappeared. "But you're engaged! They can't stop you from marrying Ginny! Anyway, Ginny's a pur-"

"They don't care about her blood status, Hermione!" Harry interrupted, voice rising now with each word. "They don't care about my blood status or yours or anybody's! They don't care about the marriage law!" now yelling, Harry tried not to cry, but one spiteful little tear made it way down his cheek to which he furiously wiped away.

"But- but-… they can't just turn a blind eye on you marrying Ginny; you got engaged! _Before_ the law was put in act! And even if they don't care, she still is a pureblood and your still a halfblood, that exactly what they want."

Harry shook his head and proceeded to walk again, leaving Hermione to catch up. "Hermione, you're the smartest witch I know, but think about it, I'm Auror, I work for the Ministry, they think I somehow got wind of it, which would explain way I'm marrying Ginny so soon after the war…"

"They think your marrying her so you don't have to marry somebody else." Hermione finished for him in a whisper.

"Yeah, that about sums it up." Harry said bitterly, stopping once more to observe the sky. The silence that followed those words was so thick one could have cut it with a plastic spoon.

"Does Ginny know?" Hermione asked quietly.

"No… I don't think so."

"Are you going to tell her?"

"I have to; I can't stay quite for ever, can I. And I'm going to have to tell her soon, especially if I don't fancy getting hexed when she does put to and to together."

"And Ron… does he know?"

"Yep, he knows."

Again, bitter silence fell between them.

"Who do you think you're going to be paired with?" Hermione couldn't help but laugh at Harry's pathetic attempt at starting a conversation.

"Probably Ron. Gosh, that makes me sound horrid, like just the idea of marrying Ron is a punishment." Said Hermione.

"Sure dose, you sound like the Devil himself." Harry sniggered as he rubbed his arm from were Hermione had punched him none too lightly.

"Well then, who do _you_ think I'm going to marry? Hmm?" she huffed, crossing her arms.

"I'm betting five of my finest galleons on, Malfoy."

"What?" Hermione gasped, "Traitor! I am _not_ marrying ferret face and that's final, I'd rather marry the giant squid. You know what, for that I'm cursing you to be burdened with Lavender Brown as a wife. HA, take that Mr. Potter, or should I say Won-Won"

Hermione was able to keep her face straight for a soiled five seconds before she erupted into a fit of giggles which turn out to be infectious.

"But seriously," she wheezed, clutching the stitch in her side, "who do you think we're going to be paired with?"

Harry shrugged, smiling "Hopefully you'll have someone who's kind, romantic, gentle and really easy going."

"And you?"

"I don't know, I can't see anyone else than Ginny. I love her, I don't think I love any one else."

"I gauss they better match you with a redhead, who knows how to perform a descent Bat-Bogey hex." Turning to face Harry, Hermione grabbed his arm, giving it a light squeeze, and said "Just remember that if you ever need any kind of help with any of your Auror business, researching or different point of view, even if you can't tell me all the details, let me know, okay?"

"Will do." And with that Harry leaned in and hugged her, "Good-night, Hermione and thank you for offering."

"No problem." Hermione said before disapparating with a wave.

Harry stayed out and continued to walk. He let the fresh air fill his lungs, the gentle breeze tangle his hair, and the general nightly sounds consume his thoughts. He would tell Ginny about the letter, but he didn't want to tell her tonight or tomorrow. Maybe it was selfish of him, to want to wait, to prolong her illusion and his fear of hurting her.

Harry sighed after what felt like to be hours of trying to produce a good enough reason not to tell her. He ran his fingers though his hair.

 _Fuck it,_ He thought finally, _it's just like ripping off a band-aid, the more you wait the harder it gets._ He wouldn't have time to tell her later, not with the minister now dead and what could possible a wizarding serial killer on the loose.

Harry headed back to the Weasley house, anyway it was eleven fifty, she couldn't possibly yell at him all night.


	4. Chapter 4

Four

The knot had started as soon as Hermione had read the letter from Mrs. Imelda Velvickys, and the slowly approaching Sunday did nothing to calm it. So as Hermione pushed off her blankets to feed an inpatient Crookshanks, the knot swished, and turned and tightened in the pit of her stomach. Sitting on the edge of her bed, Hermione clutched her gut, rubbing it in a small circle, trying in vain to calm it, even if just a little.

Today was _the_ day. The day were everything was going to change, she was ether going to end up marrying some unknown pureblood, who would probably smell of vodka, or find out that she in infected with the black plague, one way or the other her life was going to change… and probably not for the better.

If it weren't for Crookshanks' constant whining, she would have stayed there all day, under the protection of her thick blankets, and risked the wreath of the Ministry.

So upon getting up, Hermione stretched and began to make her way into the kitchen, to fill the mewling cat's bowl. After poring food Crookshanks' dish and refilling the water bowl, she shuffles over to the fridge, opens it up and begins to scan the contents, something that was surprisingly lacking. Debating wither she should eat, despite the fact that the tangling knot prevented her feeling anything other than flutter butterflies, or risk the danger of gaining an unbearably painful migraine that would not subsided until later the next day…

"Yeah, better eat." She grumbled to her, now happily purring, cat. Pulling out left over take-out, Hermione noted to herself to restock up on food, as she popped the week old dinner into the microwave.

Looking around the tiny kitchen, Hermione wondered what would happen with the life she had established. It wasn't much, it was actually pathetically simple, but it was her life, it was something she had made for herself. And what now? Was she going to have to leave it all behind? Go with live with a stranger and forget every - Hermione was dragged from her dark thoughts when she heard the loud BEEP from the microwave declaring that her food was now hot, hopefully.

Pulling the steaming plate out, Hermione shuffled back over to her room where she pulled out a mini-table, sat at the edge of the bed and began to stuff the food in her mouth, while rereading a letter form the St. Mungo's:

Dear Miss Granger

This letter is here to inform you that you need to set aside a date for this Sunday at 10:36, for your appointment to St. Mungo's.

Thank you for your understanding,

Tabitha Bellbinkal

After munching the last bite of her food, Hermione looked up at the little clock on the desk near her bed, it was 9:15, it wasn't too late but if she didn't want to miss the Ministery's appointment she had better get going. So with that in mind, Hermione stood up, dressed herself and walked into the kitchen once more and throw away the disposable dish.

Remembering that she still hadn't any Floo powder left, Hermione passed by the fireplace without stopping, grabbed her coat and turned on the spot, appariting in the jam packed enhance of St. Mungo's.

Hermione had became use to the crowed Sunday's ever since she had stated working in here, she had long learned the people seemed to take out their brains and store it a freezer, or at least that was her theory on way it was always busy on this particular day of the week. So pushing her way through the crowd, Hermione made her way to the Welcome Witches.

Standing in line, Hermione started grow bored, as the minutes ticked by and she began to entertain herself by watching people passing by.

"Come on. Stop dragging your feet, Dominic." A tall man said, tugging along an even taller man with a fish like creature that seemed to be trying to eat his head. "I told you not to piss her off. Come on!" The men's voice was soon drowned out by the road of the crowd.

Next, a short stocky woman with brilliantly red hair that could have made her a Weasley, rushed past Hermione, dragging a floating woman with flowers sprouting out of her eyes and mouth, and yelling at someone to hold the elevator.

Hermione's attention was ripped way as two men were shouting over a shoe, when she heard a Welcome Witch shout:

"NEXT!"

"Hi, uh, I'm, uh, here to see my wife."

"That's nice. What's her name?"

"Uh, yeah, yeah, Paloma."

The Witch looked up and raised her brow slightly, "And does Mrs. Paloma happen to have a last name?"

"Oh! Yeah, Sole, Paloma Sole. She has dragon pox."

"Second floor, room 142. Have a nice day, Mr. Sole." Said the witch, after a brief pause to look at a parchment.

"You too."

"NEXT!"

When the man move out of the way, Hermione stepped forward.

"Good morning."

"Humph, I like to differ. So what can I do for you, mama?"

"I need to know what floor the Ministry is holding the check up."

"Fourth floor, room 271. Good luck."

"Thank you."

"NEXT!"


End file.
